I Call Your Name
by j'ai une ame solitaire
Summary: NOT an ATU story!  Charlene had nothing to lose, her apartment burnt down and she only had a few belongings, so when she time travels to 1964 and meets The Beatles, well, why should she leave?
1. I'm Looking Through You

Insomnia makes me want to write for some reason, so here you have it! My first fan fiction, with less than half the calories of most fan fictions!

Comments and critiques are welcome. And I do not own The Beatles, sadly. If I did there would've been a lot more shirtless photo shoots.

_Beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep bee_-

I lazily slapped my hand down on the alarm clock, causing it to cease its unbearable shrieks. I roll over and look at the time, 8:15 AM

_When I wake up early in the morning, lift my head, I'm still yawning.. _

My least favorite part of the day, waking up. The sun gleamed through my curtains and didn't help with my efforts of trying to go back to bed.

_Good day sunshine, good day sunshine.. _

Well I'm up, that's for sure. There's no way I'm going to back to sleep now.

_Woke up, fell out of bed, dragged a comb across my head.._

I roll out of bed, dragging the entire duvet along with me and I taste that disgusting morning taste in my mouth. Thinking past that, I remember something.

I haven't eaten in eleven hours, and I'm famished.

I fixed my sleeping boxers and adjusted my tank top, then trudged down the stairs, with my abandoned duvet laying at the top. Past the living room and entrance was my favorite part of a house, the kitchen.

_The king of Marigold was in the kitchen, cooking breakfast for the queen.._

No king of Marigold here, just me. It's so strange to have an entire house all to myself, especially one this... fancy.After my apartment burnt down my sister let me live with her. In this

BIG

FANCY

HOUSE

And if you knew me, you'd also know that that is a very bad idea.

I don't have anything to do at this exact moment, finals are over and I took a two-week break from work to allow my sister and I fix the my-apartment-burnt-down-and-I-lost-mostly-everything problem. I did manage to salvage my purse that had my wallet, iPod, iPod charger, car keys, cellphone, and the John Lennon cassette that I always carry with me. That's not all, I did get my portable record player with all 13 of my Beatles albums and a big, holographic Abbey Road picture. But that's it. I lost everything, my clothes, my laptop, my guitar, my PIANO! That made me mad the most, the one thing I couldn't save was my most precious belonging.

Shit happens.

_Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, life goes on, brah! Lala how the life goes on.._

I started making myself breakfast, trying to forget everything that happened. I made my favorite, plain oatmeal with strawberries and bananas.

_Let me take you down, 'cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields.._

After I finished I washed my dishes I went back up the stairs, picked up the duvet, and dragged myself up to "my" room.

It's not even my room. It's a plain guest room, with not a single memory of mine attached to it.

I at least got to hang up my Abbey Road holographicpicture. It looks like they're standing right in front of me. If you ever see something like this, buy it. It is the most fab thing ever.

That's when I realize how empty and quiet the house is, and how I'm all alone. When I'm by myself I feel so perturbed, especially in my case, when I have almost no belongings.

I laid down in bed and grabbed my iPod, and I hope that music will calm me.

_Sure it will, _I pondered, _music, as Victor Hugo put it, says that which cannot be put into words and cannot remain silent._

I smiled at my reflection in the iPod, that which showed the ridiculous amount of freckles all over my face that even stretched down to my body and my across peachy skin.

I'm a vain little bird, aren't I?

My iPod screen glowed as I turned it on and pressed shuffle,

_Anything is fine now, _I thought to myself, _I just need to drift away._

_She's not a girl who misses much, do do do do do do, oh yeah.._

What a lie.

I miss everything, I wish everything could be normal again!

"I'll just sleep, and when I get up everything will be perfect, like it was before." I vented.

Out loud, that is.

Great, now I'm talking to myself. Sleep is what I need now.

I snuggled deeper into my bed and listened to John's voice as I was weaving in and out of subconsciousness.

_Happiness is a warm gun, bang, bang, shoot, shoot.._

_**It's short, I know! I promise the next chapter will be longer!**_


	2. Another Girl

******I love getting reviews so keep them coming!**

**Shout out to thefunkeymonkey121 for being so awesome!**

I'm cold.

I'm really fucking cold.

When I finally come to my senses I realize three very important and strange factors.

One: I'm not in my bed, and I'm positive I'm not even in a house, I'm in the middle of a train station.

Two: I'm still in my pajamas and my iPod is safely tucked in my short pocket along with my John Lennon cassette.

And Three: There are a shitload of people, mostly girls, screaming and charging at me with the ferocity of a pack of cheetahs.

I run and hide behind a large advertisement, to avoid being seen. I watch as the group chase four figures who are too far away for me to get a good look at. As the four men run closer my way, I inwardly gasp.

It's The Beatles.

The shrieking girls are chasing The Beatles. John, Paul, George, and Ringo. I stand still, absolutely stunned by what I'm seeing.

And then it makes sense, the girls in their 60's fashion clothes, the fact that the train station is very outdated and not technologically evolved at all, and that I see George, Paul, John, and Ringo, alive and young.

I can't believe it. There has to be something else going on.

Wait, maybe I'm DREAMING! This is the best dream ever! It's probably one of those dreams that feel very real, but when I wake up it'll only be a lovely, funny, memory.

Since it's a dream, I might as well enjoy. I start sprinting to the dream John, Paul, George and Ringo, with the hopes that I could meet them, in my dream that is. As I run, I unexpectedly trip and fall.

Of course, clumsy me.

Ouch, it actually kind of hurts.

I'm bleeding! I gently probe the small cut, which feels very real. It stings sharply, causing me to shout out a semi-loud "Ow!" I sure as hell don't experience pain in dreams.

Am I dreaming?

I run to the back of pack of girls and poke a very average teenager wearing thick frame glasses, more makeup then I ever have, and wearing a knit sweater that read "John is Mine!" with a red heart underneath.

"Hey! Wait! Excuse me! Could I bother you for the date please?" It's louder than an airplane taking off in the station, so I had to yell at my loudest volume.

"It's February 5th you nitwit! Get out of my way!" Sweater girl yelled back.

She had a British accent and she was obviously annoyed at the fact that I was getting in the way of her meeting her precious John.

Ignoring that she just insulted me, I yelled "Well, what year is it?"

And then she stopped running.

"Were you dropped as a child? It's 1964! And put on some real clothes, you slob!"

She scolded me like a student who has done something bad, which I didn't really appreciate, but before I could call her some very nasty and offensive names she ran to go and join the running marathon again.

So I'm not in 2010, I time traveled to 1964, February 5th specifically.

And I just spotted two dead Beatles, which is definitely out of the ordinary, since they're ,you know, dead.

Wait, February 5th? That's two days before they go to North America.

So, what do I do now?

I can stay here, stuck in the sixties, with no clue of what to do or where to go.

Or I could go and possibly meet The Beatles.

I prefer the second idea. I have to get on that train!

Again, I'm running, this time to a different target. I catch up to the head of the horde and I start to follow The Beatles, headed towards an open train entrance.

I have no idea how I'm going to sneak on to the train though, without somebody noticing a girl in pajama shorts, a tank top, and fuzzy socks.

The four mop-topped boys jump into the train and not long after I do to.

And then the train door closes.

And I'm next to four Beatles.

"'Ey, who invited the bird?" Ringo probed. He stared at me, with his face scrunched up in scrutiny.

It was so adorable, the way he talked, and looked so serious, I nearly died.

When no one said anything John asked "What do ya want, a signature?"

Oh shit, now they probably think I'm some maniacal fan who wants to take a lock of their hair or something.

"I'm Charlene Daly, and I'm from the future." The words tumbled out of my mouth, I didn't have anything better to say.

"And I'm the Queen! How do you do, Miss Charlene?" John replied in a mock-posh tone.

"No, I'm really from the future! I'm from 2010 and when I went to bed, somehow I came back to this time and when I got here I didn't know what to do so I just got on the train." I replied.

I desperately wanted them to understand and to not think that I'm a stalker!

Paul and John gave each other side way glances and nodded with a smirk on their faces. Next thing I know, John has me hoisted over his shoulder, running down the hallway shouting

"We've captured her boys! Onward, onward, onward!" with Paul, Ringo, and George following.

And for the first time that day, I laughed.


	3. Don't Bother Me

**You guys are so awesome! I love reviews, they inspire me to write! **

John had me over his shoulder and the other three Beatles were tagging along. We arrived at the train car and it wasn't long before John started bellowing again.

"Roll call! Harrison!"

"Present!"

"Starkey!"

"Present!"

"McCartney!"

"Present!"

John clamoring was quite loud, really. I wonder if the other train passengers can hear this. Shouldn't an attendant or someone be worried about what is going on?

I sat down nervously, fixing my shirt and smoothing my shorts. I am not dressed for the occasion, and even worse, my socks and feet are dirty and wet from running.

By the looks of it, Paul was the most suspicious of me. Ringo was looking out the window, George was reading the paper, and John...well he was just being John. He was ogling at me, while wiggling his eyebrows.

"So, you say you're from the future, Charlene. Why should we believe that?" Paul demanded.

"I have proof." I squeaked. I was not going to be interrogated like a criminal, I was going to stand up for myself and try my best to explain that I'm from 2010.

"What kind of proof?" George asked, looking up from the newspaper.

"Let me show you." I replied, reaching for my pocket. My iPod should prove it to them, but I don't know how the John Lennon cassette ended up in my shorts pocket.

_Well, I am in 1964, I guess anything is possible at this point._ I thought to myself.

"If you would so kind, may you let us gaze upon the mystical, futuristic evidence?" John pleaded as he grabbed my hand and kneeled on the floor.

"Alright, don't wet yourself," I returned, "Here it is." I clasped the silver iPod in my hand, showing it to all of them.

"Gear, what is it exactly?" George inquired.

I love it when they say gear.

"It's an iPod, it plays music and videos." I explained. They looked at it as a caveman would look at a compass.

"How does it all fit in there? It's so... small. It's no bigger than me own hand!" Ringo said, trying to comprehend the little gadget and how it works.

"I actually don't know how it works, but it's a common device in my time. All of my friends have one of their own," I answered, handing it to him, "Try it for yourself."

Ringo took the iPod with hesitant hands and I helped him to maneuver the earpieces into his ears. I played a song they should all be very familiar with.

_Oh yeah I tell you something, I think you'll understand, when I say that something, I wanna hold your hand.._

"John! Paul! I can hear you guys singing!" Ringo looked absolutely giddy.

Paul took the iPod from Ringo, stuck a earpiece in his ear and gawked at the iPod in his hands, he passed the iPod to John and George, who each took a earpiece. Their reactions were quite funny really, I couldn't help but laugh a little.

They took turns listening to the iPod and when the song finished they pleaded me to play another song.

_What harm can it do, _I thought to myself, and played another song. They all were having fun playing with my iPod. They were smiling and joking around with each other.

_If only they knew how much things would change, and how different it'll couple years down the road, _I thought, _fights, people quitting, concerts going bad, people burning their albums, Yoko... _My thoughts trailed off.

It's not that I hate Yoko, but she didn't help by pushing her ideas on songs and never leaving John's side.

_Not that I'm jealous or anything. Definitely not. John could have done better, and is good looking and witty and funny and creative and- _

But before I could finish that thought I was brought back to reality by John snapping his fingers in my face.

"Charlene, come back to Earth." John said, smiling at my absentmindedness.

"Oh, uh, sorry. I was just deep in thought." I sheepishly admitted. My cheeks were completely flushed and I had butterflies.

Great, I'm infatuated with John.

"We believe that you're from the future, this iPod thing is otherworldly!" Paul raved, catching my attention, and handing it back to me.

I smiled. "But be warned, it has tremendous amounts of power! Zap!" I alarmed them, pretending to vaporize George with the flick of an earpiece.

"Ohhh." George moaned, collapsing on the floor, and lying with his tongue sticking out of his mouth at a bizarre angle.

"Not Georgie, my baby! Oh, you poor little thing." John cooed, as he kneeled next to George.

"How did you get here? Not that we don't want you here, but time travel isn't an everyday hobby, or at least I hope it isn't in the future." Ringo questioned, looking confused.

This is going to be hard to explain, even I don't know how I got here.

But I'm glad I did.


	4. What You're Doing

**I love you guys! You make my day with your reviews and such! Keep it up!**

**Sorry for the delay! I wasn't in the mood to write lately.. but let's just blame it on the holidays.**

**I'm switching it up! This chapter is in John's point of view. I wonder what he thinks of Charlene...**

John's POV

"I don't know how I got here, last thing I remember I was sleeping in bed." Charlene sincerely explained to us, shrugging her shoulders.

"If that's how girls dress to sleep in the future, then I can't wait." I remarked, referring to her attire. If only I could get Cyn to wear jim-jams like that! Going to bed would be much more delightful.

"You are such a deviant." Charlene said, smiling at my sexual connotation.

"As always, m'dear." I replied, staging a short bow.

"Honestly, all I remember is waking up this morning, eating some breakfast, and going back to bed. Nothing spectacular at all." Charlene said, describing her morning routine.

"Then how did you get here?" Paul asked, raising his slender eyebrows.

"Aliens." Ringo interjected, "The only plausible explanation is aliens."

"Uh, I don't think so. A for effort though." Charlene disagreed, completely overlooking Ringo's alien theory, "It's a complete mystery to me, if I had to guess I would assume something like black holes or light particles. Scientific stuff."

"Do you know anything about that? Anything that could help?" Ringo questioned.

"Are you kidding me? I barely passed my science classes in high school." Charlene answered, shaking her head, causing her dark locks to twirl around her head, "When I get the chance I could try repeating my actions prior to me ending up here, like retracing my steps."

"It's worth a shot, although you don't hafta leave immediately." I offered.

I truly wouldn't mind if Charlene stayed for a bit longer, I like having some company around besides the lads. Touring is a constant pain in the arse. No matter where we go, all the girls go potty on us and chase us like we're the prey and they're the predators, and I can't expect any better from American lasses. With Charlene around, perhaps some of the fan girls would get discouraged, knowing there's already a female present with us.

Or maybe they'd just tear her to shreds out of jealousy.

More than that though, there seems to be something different about her. A natural grace in her tone, and a confidence that I don't see in most gals. And there's no denying that she has a very lovely look to her, with freckles randomly spotted on her face and shoulders, a peachy tone to her skin, and dark hair to go with her dark eyes.

There's actually this song I'm working on that perfectly fits her.

_I should have known better with a girl like you, that I would love everything that you do. And I do, hey, hey, hey, and I dooo.._

Having a liking to a girl you just met 10 minutes ago isn't ordinary, is it?

"John, what do you think?" Charlene asked, unaware of my state of absentmindedness.

"Er, what?"

"You know, about me staying with you guys during your American visit. Everyone else thinks it's a great plan." Charlene clarified.

"Never heard of a better idea 'fore." I agreed, nodding my head in approval.

"Good, but for the time being there's a more pressing issue." Charlene sternly asserted.

"What is it?" George inquired.

"I need clothes, I can't stay in this outfit any longer." She necessitated.

"No problem at all, I am Paul McCartney if you don't know!" Paul bravely affirmed, putting on a gentlemanly pose, and winking at Charlene.

"My hero! But how will we ever acquire the clothes?" Charlene asked, filling the role of the damsel in distress.

"Watch and learn." Paul replied, rising from his seat and heading out the door, "Follow me lads and lass, for a risky but worthwhile adventure!"

Following Paul out the door and into the train corridor, the five of us jostled past endless train cars and attendants, to reach a particular train car. In front of us were a group of four young girls that were once deep in conversation, paused to stare at us, the four Beatles, and a very out-of-place girl.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!" They shrilled as they instantly recognized who we are, putting their hands to their faces to emphasize their absolute shock.

"Hullo there, you exquisite totties." Paul alluringly said while he opened the car door and put on his famous McCartney charm, "May I ask you of a dire request?"

"Of course you can! Whatever you need." One of the girls eagerly replied, trying much too hard to be adorable.

"Could we possibly have some clothes for this little lass? It would mean so much to her and us." Paul pleaded, bringing Charlene to the front of us and displayed her disheveled and filthy clothes.

"Oh my, certainly!" Another girl exclaimed, reaching for her luggage above the girls' heads. She grabbed her bag and searched through it for all the things Charlene would need, a blouse, skirt, stockings, shoes, and a thin belt, and handed it to her, "Here you go, you poor thing! I hope everything fits you well."

"Thank you very much!" Charlene said, grabbing the clothes being handed to her.

"You're welcome, and if you would like to, you boys are welcome to come back and visit any time at all." The generous stranger said, blowing a kiss as we left. Paul, of course, blew a kiss back and ushered us down the train hallway to a small and quite dingy bathroom.

"Ew." Charlene muttered, looking at the lavatory in disgust.

"It's better than getting changed in front of the four of us." Paul prompted, pushing Charlene into the bathroom, "Now, don't take too long darling, we're waiting right out here!"

While we patiently waited for Charlene to finish getting dressed, George slyly pulled out a sandwich from his jacket pocket and eagerly took a bite of it.

"George, where'd you get that butty?" Ringo asked.

"I got it from me pocket, I didn't want to eat it in front of Charlene. She's probably starving, and if I ate it in front of her I would've looked like a smarmy prick." George answer, taking another big bite of his sandwich.

"She probably is hungry, I say we go down to the dining cart after she's done." Paul proposed.

"Sounds good to me." Ringo agreed.

After waiting a minute or two longer Charlene stepped out of the bathroom to reveal herself in a button up blouse, a knee length skirt, and stockings with a pair of short heels on her feet. We all ambled down to the dining cart and sat at a table for four, pulling up a chair for Charlene, sat down, ordered our kip, and started to talk.

"Where's this train taking us to?" Charlene asked, propping her elbow on the table and resting her head in her hand.

"London, as soon as we arrive at the station we'll take a car to The Ritz. Day after tomorrow we're hopping on an airplane to the U.S." I simply answered, lighting up a cigarette, taking a big huff, and slowly exhaling. I watched the smoke form curly tendrils in the air.

"Can you spot me one, Johnny?" George requested.

"Sure." I answered, handing him a cigarette and casting fire to it.

"George, you shouldn't-" Charlene said, then quickly shut her mouth.

"I shouldn't what?" George asked, with a confused look on his face.

"Uh, nothing." Charlene replied.

"What is it?" George pushed, the confused expression on his face being replaced with a look of anxiousness.

"I can't say." Charlene quietly confessed, casting her eyes to her lap.

George furrowed his eyebrows, rose from his seat, and ran out the train cart entrance, slamming the door behind him.

This isn't good.


	5. It Won't Be Long

**Thank you reviewers! All of you are amazing! I'm so sorry for the wait! I swear it won't happen again!**

**I'm going to try to speed things up in the next couple of chapters, not much has really happened so far..**

**This chapter is back in Charlene's point of view.**

Charlene's POV

This isn't good.

George swiftly got up from his chair and exited the train cart, slamming the door behind him.

John, Paul, and Ringo watched as their fellow band mate abruptly left, shocked at what they were witnessing. Sure, George could get mad sometimes but usually he kept a calm demeanor.

He is the quiet Beatle after all.

I looked at them and they seemed unsure of what to do. Ringo distracted himself with a menu, Paul picked at his fingernails, and John gazed out the window.

"Excuse me." I rose up from my seat and left the dining cart in pursuit of George.

I passed countless passengers and attendants, looking for the familiar figure of George, and I was unsuccessful in my search until I passed the train car I was staying in with the four boys. The drawn curtains and the locked door were not good signs. I gently knocked on the door and cringed a bit when a heard a sullen voice reply.

"Hullo? Who's there?" I could tell that it was George hiding behind the door, his distinct accent was drenched with melancholy.

"It's me, Charlene. Can I come in?" I asked, leaning against the door. I waited for a short amount of time and didn't get an answer.

"George, please let me in." I squeezed my eyes shut and drew in a long, anxious breath. It was quiet for another moment, then I heard the lock click and the door slide open. I stepped in and sat down in the seat across from him. I noticed he still had the cigarette dangling in his fingers, spilling small bits of ashes in intervals. A moment of tense and awkward silence floated in the air between us until George finally broke it.

"Why'd you say that? I mean, what are you implying exactly?" George questioned, he seemed con fused and hurt, and it made me so mad at myself to see what I had caused.

I can't tell him that he dies of lung cancer, no one wants to know how they die. But if I told him he could quit smoking and I could prevent him from dying. I didn't know how to properly form the words in such a way that I wouldn't scare him or make him worried, and I was about to explain when George nervously cut in.

"My uncle died from smokin' a lot of cigs, is that what happens to me?" George had a look of despair printed on his face.

"Yes, but it doesn't have to end that way," I reassured him, casting a sympathetic arm on his shoulder, "If you just cut back a bit you can live a long, healthy life."

"Are you sure?" He asked.

"Positive." I truthfully replied.

He looked at the burning cigarette and dropped on the ground and proceeded to smash it with his foot. Then he nodded, smiled a small smile, and relaxed back in his seat, looking relieved.

There was a short pause, then George spoke up.

"I'm sorry for leavin' in such a temper." He sincerely apologized.

"Don't be, I'm sorry for frightening you," I waved my hand and smiled at him

"The fellas are probably waiting for us, we should go back." George said, pointing his thumb in the general direction of the dining cart.

"Good idea." I agreed. We headed back to the dining cart and found our table where John, Paul, and Ringo were patiently waiting. John beckoned me to his side and I kneeled over to hear what he had to say.

"Is everything okay?" He whispered, taking a couple of glances at George.

"Everything is all right, but I'll tell you in detail what happened later." I quickly answered, and sat down at the table.

Several minutes of lively chatter and jokes passed until we were served our meals. A well dressed waiter came and dished out copious amounts of food, which everyone eagerly dug into. Halfway through eating a tall man in a suit stepped into the dining cart, holding a briefcase in one hand and a newspaper in the other. Instantaneously, I recognized him.

He was Brian Epstein.

He maneuvered himself to our table and stopped two feet short of the table, right in front of me.

"Who's this?" He probed, staring at me in a way that made me extremely uncomfortable.

"This is Charlene, she'll be staying with us for a while." John retorted.

"And how did you come up that decision?" Brian incredulously asked, "We are about to embark on your first American visit and you decide to just pick up some girl off the street to drag along?"

"Precisely." John retaliated, "And furthermore, she's not just some girl. Her name, as I said before, is Charlene."

I could tell that Brian was getting impatient, his face was turning into a shade of red and his arms were firmly crossed.

"Even if I do allow Charlene to stay with you, there is one question that needs to be answered. How long is she going stay with you for?" Brian demanded.

"However long she wants to stay." John shot back, clearly winning the argument.

"I suppose I'm being overruled than." Brian affirmed.

"As usual."

"Fine, I picked up this newspaper on the way here, I thought you might want to see it." Brian said, tenuously tossing the newspaper on the table. I scanned it and in big, bold letters it read BEATLEMANIA SWEEPS U.S.A.

"Well, this is exciting." Ringo remarked, picking up the paper. George leaned over to Ringo's side to study it.

"They've taken over Britain and now they're taking over America. These four Liverpudlian lads have a charm like no other and a tune that will staying ringing in your ears for hours on end. They started out as a group of teenagers with their hair slicked back and leather jackets, now donning a much more suave look." He narrated an excerpt from the paper, and read the rest to himself.

He passed the paper to Paul. He smiled as he read the article and passed it to John after he finished. John quickly read it and passed it to me. The front page had a picture of the four of them walking in sync, with a subtitle of "How it all started – What Britain says." I wasn't really interested in reading it, but I did for no useful reason. After reading, I timidly passed the paper back to Brian, who practically snatched it from my hands. He muttered a small goodbye and scooted out of the dining cart.

"Something's got him in a hurry." John observed.

"I don't think he likes me." I hesitantly confided to John.

"Don't mind him," He dismissed "He's just a bit of a funny bugger sometimes."

I nodded and shifted my attention back to my food. We ate and chatted until we finished our meals and went back to the cart. Paul, George, and Ringo sat lined up across from John and I.

I sat down and smoothed my skirt.

Again, with my nervous habits.

I couldn't help but notice John candidly staring at me, with a complete focus on my face. I ignored it for a while, until some time had passed. At this point it was starting to get creepy.

"What are you doing?" I demanded.

"Counting your freckles! I'm busying meself 'til the train ride's over." He answered, "So far, there are two hundred and seventy-four."

I can honestly say that if I was asked two weeks ago if I could imagine John Lennon counting my freckles, I'd say no.

"How much longer until we get to the train station?" I asked to no one in particular.

"Not much longer." Paul replied, "About fifteen minutes or so."

"How do we dodge the fans?" I asked. I'm sure it's not going to be an easy task.

"We'll be rushed away from the fans by a bunch if bobbies and whisked away to a car. Which'll take us to an interview." Paul clued me in to the schedule.

"Can I come with you guys to the interview?" I inquired. Hell, I've got nothing better to do.

"I don't see why not." Paul approved.

The next fifteen minutes were spent carelessly, between chatter and for a bit John whipped out his harmonica and I watched as John, Paul, George, and Ring sang some impromptu tunes. My ears perked up to the sound of a bell ringing to alert the passengers that the train was coming to a stop. The train emitted a long screech and slowly came to a stop.

I looked out the window and came face to face with Beatlemania. There were hordes of shouting fans, louder than anything I've ever heard.

This is going to be hard to get by.


	6. I Feel Fine

**One year and five chapters later, here I am, continuing the story of Charlene and her adventures with the Beatles. It is so weird for me to say that a year ago I started this project, and at one point gave up on it, but now I am ready to start churning out chapters regularly! If any of my old readers are reading this, I just want to say thank you for sticking it out, I love you all! **

**The interview was taken from an actual interview on this day, I'm trying to be as historically accurate as possible.**

_**February 5th, 1964 **_

It was chaos, Beatlemania at its finest.

A frenzy of fans were screaming their lungs outs, practically mobbing the area surrounding the train. Noise rung through my ears as the train let out a long hiss that the shouts from the girls easily drowned out. A barrier of bobbies held the fans back, barely though. I wasn't too surprised when I saw more than one girl literally faint, and then dragged off the scene by a police officier.

I was collecting my few items when Mal Evans, the roadie, appeared in the doorway, took the luggage and silently led the five of us to the train door.

There, Brian was impatiently waiting along with a few other people. Among the group the only other people I recognized were Neil Aspinall and Derek Taylor. The rest was just entourage. Photographers, columnists, all of the sort.

Brian gave me a cold look and scolded the four of them for being late, he went on about how they were already running behind and that it doesn't look good when you are late to an interview. Especially when you are about to go on your first U.S tour, he emphasized.

"As soon as you exit the train, go straight to the car," Brian briefed us, "It'll take you to the interview."

Paul, George, Ringo, and John mimicked a salute. We emerged from the train door; the air was frigid and whipped through my hair. Girls were frantically waving, trying to capture their favorite Beatle's attention, shouting out the boys' names and proudly waving signs that exclaimed their love for them.

As we almost reached the car and it dawned on me that there weren't enough seats to accommodate everyone. The thought must have popped into John's head too, because he turned to me and said "I guess you're going to have to sit on me lap." I kept my mouth from dropping and simply murmured back a small, "Yeah."

He sat next to the window and I gingerly settled myself on top of him. I could feel my heart beating rapidly, and my hands clamming up. The car pulled away from the scene and he nonchalantly placed his hand on my knee, which sent chills up my spine.

I couldn't think coherently, my thoughts were in fragments.

_Oh my god. How-, Wha-, oh my god, this isn't be real. _It repeated itself like for the rest of the car ride, nothing else could manage its way into my mind.

As promised by Brian, the car took us to the interview in no time.

We rushed inside and found ourselves in the presence of an interviewer, who gestured for us to take a seat. I noted the clock on the wall that read half past two. I opted move to the side, out of sight of the interviewer.

_I don't want to intrude. _I thought to myself, _I should stay out of the way._

What I honestly was thinking was, _I don't want to be a Yoko_, but I would never admit it.

The interviewer jumped right in, wasting no time. "What was the reaction like in France?"

"The audiences were a bit funny, you see." George explained, "There were more boys than girls, and we missed the good ol' screams. But you know, there were quite a lot of shouts."

"You mean they actually listened to you? That's the difference, is it?" The interviewer responded.

"Yeah." George replied.

"What's the French electrical supply like over there?" He asked.

"It's good actually. Oh, the equipment's great. But on the first night, as you may know, we had a bit of trouble, because we suddenly found there was a radio program just sort of plugging into everything, and it overloaded all the amps and everything. They just went, 'Boomf!'" Paul answered, demonstrating the 'boomf' with a hand gesture.

"Three times." Ringo added.

"'Boomf', 'boomf'."

I stopped paying attention to the interview, not long after it started. It's weird, because I have read this interview before, and I know what they are going to say before they say it.

It's interesting to see it happen with my own eyes, but the fact that I know everything before it happens sort of takes away from the experience. Every public event that is to come, I know about. I know what songs they'll write before they write them. And I know of their future erratic behavior, especially John's. His excessive drug use and terrible bouts of depression.

And I know that he'll die in the most grim and unexpected way possible.

I guess history can still change, nothing is set in stone. I could warn him and make sure he doesn't die on that cold December day.

_Not now. _I told myself, _you just met him, wait a bit._

But how will he react? When I told George about his death, and he didn't take the news very well.

My mind raced as I thought up different ways I could tell him or how to approach the subject and the various ways he could react to it. I was in the middle of severe inner conflict when I received a light tap on my shoulder. I looked up to see John, beaming down at me. His smile was contagious and I found myself smiling back at him.

Any worries that I had before were now gone.

"Time to go, love." He informed me.

I nodded and followed him outside the building and into the car. A short drive later and then we arrived at the hotel. We luckily managed to sneak in without catching the attention of the press. Inside, Brian was at the front desk, presumably to reserve the rooms for everyone. He finished talking to the desk clerk and turned to us.

He looked at John and beckoned him. "A word, if you would." He impassively directed.

John shrugged and walked over to Brian, where I could hear them quietly arguing. More than once I heard my name pop up in the conversation and when it did either Brian or John would take a glance at me. When they finished talking Brian trotted off in another direction, obviously discontent and John returned.

"What happened back there?" Paul asked.

"There were only four bedrooms is the suite that Brian reserved for us, so he was trying to convince me to send Charlene home." John looked at me, and continued, "But I wouldn't have it. I told 'im that I wouldn't send her back, and after trying to convince me a couple more times he just walked away crossly."

"So, where's Charlene going to sleep?" George inquired.

"With me, I'll just share a bed with her." He answered.

_With me, I'll just share a bed with her. _It reverberated in my head, leaving me speechless and unbelievably happy. This was a fan girl's dream, and I was living it. In my head I was jumping around and squealing but on the outside I poised and collected.

I blushed and managed to utter, "Thank you, John."

He grinned and me and responded. "You're very welcome, Charlene."

The five of us headed to the suite, where we would be able to finally relax. Or so we thought.

We took the elevator up to the top floor, and I carried my few belongings by myself into the suite that was reserved for us. As soon as we stepped in the boys all threw off their coat and stuff to the side and fell where they stood. I laughed and poked Ringo, who looked utterly exhausted.

I observed the suite, it was heavily decorated with gift baskets and flowers sent as welcoming presents for them. A sack of mail was on the floor in the middle of the room, waiting to be conquered. John, Paul, George, and Ringo all audibly groaned as soon as they saw the fan mail.

"More fan mail?" George objected, "Can we just bloody hire somebody to read this for us?"

I didn't pay attention to their grumbles, and set my things down on a small table that was tucked away in a corner and made sure to hide my iPod and cassette underneath my pajamas. It would be hard to explain myself to anyone who didn't know my 'secret'.

I glanced at the table, where John, Paul, George, and Ringo had already sat down at the table and started to read the fan mail. John had put on his chunky, black, Buddy Holly glasses, which he insists that he looks bad with. _He's really too vain for his own good_. I thought to myself, smirking.

I looked at the heaps of mail that was sorted out into four piles. I noticed Ringo's pile; he had the biggest pile of fan mail, two times bigger than anyone else! I watched as they read letter after letter, the piles never seemed to get smaller.

I plopped myself on top of the couch. As I lay there, watching them, I found myself increasingly bored. I thought about grabbing my iPod and listening to it, but I couldn't run the risk of getting caught with it.

I started thinking about different things, like what I'm going to do once we board the airplane to the U.S., since I don't have a passport, or any other important papers for that matter. I don't even belong in this time! I could be horribly screwing with time and space and all those other important things.

And what about my sister? I'm gone, and she must have noticed by now. Just up and left, without a trace. I couldn't handle thinking about possibly making my sister go through all that grief. I stopped myself there, I didn't want to fill myself up with unhappy thoughts. If I'm with the Beatles I might as well enjoy myself.

But, of course, my subconscious couldn't stop itself and a dreadful thought eluded its way on to my mind: why does Brian dislike me so much?

I figured he didn't like me because he felt like I was intruding or something. I remembered how John told me that Brian was just being himself, so I didn't think about it too much. Another thought suddenly popped into my head.

Where was Cynthia?

I know she should be here with them now, so what happened? I made sure to remember to ask John about it later.

I sat up on the couch, not sure of what to do next. I looked at John, George, and Ringo; it seemed they were nearly done with the mail.

Paul, who had surprisingly had the smallest amount of mail, came over, sat down on an armchair, and started smoking a cigarette. I greeted him, to which he replied with a sullen 'hullo'.

"What's bugging you?" I asked him.

"Ringo got more fan mail than me." He frowned.

"What's wrong with that?" I asked.

"I'm Paul McCartney! I win all the popularity polls! My nickname is Paul McCharmly! It just doesn't make sense." He said, with a dramatic sigh. I laughed, I couldn't tell if he was just kidding or if he was being serious.

"Don't worry, you still have loads of fans that would cut their foot off to meet you." I reassured him. His frown slowly faded away from his face.

"So, what year did you come from?" He asked me.

"2010."

"Any great advances in the future, besides the little music playing device you showed us."

I smirked and decided to mess with him a bit. "Animal shaped rubber bands and beds that you can tan in."

His eyebrows furrowed and a thoroughly confused look spread across his face. I laughed and waved my hand, and explained to him that wasn't all the future holds.

"But I shouldn't really say anything to you," I told him, "You'll get to see it one day."

"I will?" His eyes widened. "By then I'll be..." He counted his fingers and did the math in his head. "I'll be sixty-eight years old!" He exclaimed.

"You will be. And you'll still be playing concerts. I actually went to one of your concerts in 2008, you were quite good." I said, smiling.

His brain couldn't comprehend his sixty-eight year old self playing concerts, and he remained silent for a moment. He suddenly turned to me with a Cheshire cat-like grin on his face.

"So, you know what will happen to the Beatles in the future, correct?"

I knew that someone was going to ask me this sooner or later, it was inevitable, but I still wasn't ready as to what I should say.

"I am all-knowing, yes." I responded.

"Would you mind giving us a hint, just a glimmer?" He pleaded with his hazel puppy dog eyes, I couldn't keep my mouth shut.

"Let's just say you become easily the most popular and recognizable band for decades to come."

Paul's smile grew even wider and he twisted himself around to face the boys.

"Hey, did you lot catch that? We're going to be big! Bigger than big, huge!" Paul excitedly hollered.

George whooped and Ringo broke out into a dance, which looked more like someone going into cardiac arrest.

"Let's celebrate! To the toppermost of the poppermost!" John exclaimed, grabbing a bottle of rum from a gift basket and some cokes from the fridge, he sloppily served five glasses of rum and coke-a Beatle staple drink. Everyone took their drinks and downed them, except for me. I took a small sip from my glass and sat down on the couch.

Over in the corner George turned on the radio, which was funnily enough playing I Want to Hold Your Hand. George cheered and gestured for me to come dance with him, which I shyly denied. He gave me a look that said "come on!" and took me by the hand. We danced until Paul interrupted, taking his turn to dance with me. Ringo then cut in and I did a silly little jig with him, until John whisked me away.

As I danced with John, I couldn't help but just stare into his eyes. It was such a strange and unexplainable feeling, to be dancing with a man who you had always recognized as dead. I had always wanted nothing more than having a chance to see him in person, and now that I was it was exhilarating. We danced until my feet were sore, and we all just eventually fell on the couch, exhausted from all the dancing. My stomach let out a loud rumble, which alerted everyone that I was hungry.

John grinned at me, "Do you have a creature hiding in there?" he quipped.

"If you can call my perpetual hunger that, then yes, I do." I replied.

"I'm pretty hungry too." Ringo remarked.

We decided to call room service and order up some food, which after we finished eating left everyone lazily relaxing around the suite.

"I feel like I ate enough to feed an entire country." George stated, while rubbing his belly.

"Aye, aye." Ringo agreed.

"What now?" I asked them.

"Sleep," Paul suggested "It's already half past nine and we've got a lot to do tomorrow."

I guess time flies when you're spending it with the fab four.

It dawned on me that I didn't have any pajamas or anything to wear for tomorrow. Or for the day after that, and the day after that. "I need to go shopping." I plainly told them.

"But it's not safe for a young lady to go off by herself this late at night," John jokingly warned, "I'll have to come with."

"You don't have to; I'm old enough to take care of myself." I told him.

"Well then, who's going to pay for all of it?"

He had a point there.

We went out shopping and I picked out some clothes and other things, not without some suggestions from John. He, of course, picked out some less than ladylike clothes for me, to which I declined.

I finished in a little less than an hour and we were back at the hotel in no time. I took a long, warm shower and I changed into my new nightgown, which I had to settle for. I searched high and low for some pajama shorts at the store, but to my dismay there were none, not that I could have expected there to be any. It was completely different in this era, being that there was a lot of room for change.

I guess there are some things I'm going to have to get used to.

I stepped put of the bathroom and stepped into the living room, which was completely vacant. A note was on top of the table with my name scrawled across it. I picked it up and read it to myself.

_Charlene,_

_The boys and me are dead tired, really, and we're off to bed. Our room is the first on the left, I'm probably already asleep by the time you read this. Sleep tight, don't let the beddy bugs bite._

_-John_

I smiled at his childish note, and for some reason I was compelled to keep it. I put it with the rest of my belongings and sneaked into the bedroom where John was sure enough, sleeping. I eased into the bed, as not to wake him up, and turned off the lamp. Exhaling deeply, I thought over the entire day, from my first encounter to being in bed with one of them, and I was excited at the thought of days to come. My eyes fluttered shut and Golden Slumbers played in my head as I weaved in and out of subconsciousness.

___Golden slumbers, fill your eyes. Smiles await you when you rise. Sleep pretty darling, do not cry, and I will sing a lullaby.. _

**I'm going to make this interesting, first three people to review will have an appearance in the next chapter! Sounds good, eh? So, REVIEW! :)**


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